Gin and Juice
by Constance-Lirit
Summary: Shounen-ai (boy x boy) Ulquiorra x Thrawe (OC) . Thrawe is told to guard the area between each Espada domain, where he meets Ulquiorra Cifer. Said Espada soon drives him up the wall, how will he cope with his new found, full time stalker, part time admirer?
1. Chapter 1

It was dark when Thrawe woke up. His lips were cracked, his throat was dry and his eyes were blood shot. It was dark and someone was hammering at his door in the middle of the night. Or, at least he thought it was night time, you couldn't tell in a world cast into eternal darkness. Laying on his back with his arms spread out at either side of him he stares bluntly at the ceiling, which was high above him and painted white. His entire room was white, leaving only a black reclining chair and his own bed to stand out against the dull surroundings. To one corner there was a bar with gentle green tinted lights, which where humming through the shadows. Now he had a headache.

Received from both the slamming at his chamber door, and from the three shots of gin he had drank that evening. Slowly sitting up the sleek covers slip onto his thighs, allowing the crescent moon outside of the large window to bask his gently sloping masculine shoulders in its radiant silver glow.  
>"Thrawe!" a high pitched voice yelps from outside, the sheer yell sending shudders down the thick shot-glass on his nightstand. Sliding his legs off of the edge of the double bed his eyelids slowly shut, a large, strong hand reaching up to run through his messy hair. "Dangit, Thrawe! Aizen is summoning us to his court room!" the shrieking voice screams again. It was a good thing he locked his small single door at night. From his lips a groggy mutter is produced, while his clumsy feet groaned from being forced to take his weight.<p>

Walking across the icy dark floor this tall man lingers in the shadows, his toes twitching against the panels. Hovering at the door he puts his arm onto it, his eyelids being squeezed against his hot skin.  
>"It's three in the morning, Sweet-cheeks." he finally spoke in a hushed manner, only to be deafened by the person on the other side.<br>"I don't care, get dressed!" they yell, obviously furious. Groaning Thrawe turns and lets out a deep and soul-escaping sigh, Aizen had better have wanted something important.  
>"What would it take for things to be quieter?" the man enquires to himself in a whisper, as he slowly traipses towards the darkest part of his room. Hung on the back of a chair was his official coat, with nothing amazing about it to be seen. No cuts, no fancy add-ons, not even a pretty sparkly button on it anywhere. It was probably about as dull as his room, actually. Sliding it on he does not bother to zip it up, but he does however carefully comb his hair back into its usual short, angular, wavy style that was messily spread out against his head. Looking around for his shoes Thrawe finds them, his entire body falling face first onto a thin rug.<p>

Outside a thin young man was staring at the door expectantly, his heart pounding and his throat clenched shut tightly from the amount of yelling he had done. From within the silence he could hear thumping, banging and muttering past the door.  
>"Hurry up!" he plights, twitching his thin orange eyebrow. Hearing the door unlock loudly and then crack open his entire body shifts back, his muscles clenching with every creak the door made for every inch it moved. Coming out into the light Thrawe slumps to an angle, allowing the hallways light to cover him. Closing his eyes and hissing gently he opens his left eye slightly, just enough that he could see the annoying banshee standing slightly below him. "Come on!" the short haired ginger complains, stomping off down the corridor in a huff.<p>

In full view of the light Thrawe's body could be seen. His most dominant features had to have been on his face, which was probably why people always stared at him. This strong muscularly toned but subtle man had a strong and well sculpted jaw line, which was hidden remotely by a line of stubble which followed the entire length of his lower jaw. Turning his head with a gentle, instinctual flick the mans fringe moves against his angular yet demure forehead, allowing the ringed strands to move back into place after they bounce. Reaching up to scratch the corner of his lips Thrawe sighs, allowing his well proportioned mouth to crack open subtly. The movement causing him to sneeze abruptly and wrinkle his slim lined and inconspicuous nose.

As he trudged down the corridor with a nonchalant expression the dark-chocolate brunet examines the area. He had seen it all a thousand times before, but even then he always found something to bemuse him. Whether that was the long winding staircases, the miles of land that stretched between each part of the castle, or the employees that worked for Aizen. Scratching his small low profile ears weakly he stops behind his loud mouthed friend, and then leans against the wall behind him. They had to wait for Aizen to accept their presence and let them in. If it was any other guy Thrawe would probably have barged in, and stood demanding an explanation for such a late summoning. Before then gutting the bastard and using his insides for garters.

After a good ten minutes the brunet had furrowed his defined brow-line, had his partner even knocked? Heaving out his chest to sigh once again his partner turns, his frothy green eyes prowling up from his pronounced pecks and abdomen to his tired and weary face. Turning away again to stand straight and patiently the ginger shuts his eyes, trying to set a proper example to anyone who was not sure of how to greet Aizen's door. Thrawe knew exactly how he would greet it, with a nice hearty kick. Hearing a yell for them to finally enter the brunet groans deeply, it was about time.  
>"Zip up your coat! There are high ranking officers in that throne room right now." his partner hisses under his breath, waiting patiently for him to cover himself. Muttering Thrawe does as he is told, allowing the coat to cover his loose white hakama and shirtless torso. Although, he was pretty sure the higher ups were not that shy of a bit of exposure.<p>

Inside of the room there was a huge wall, and on top of a large structure Aizen had perched himself on his throne. Hidden up and away from all on going and off going subordinates. To either side of the wall there were several different Espada, ranking from fourteen to one. Thrawe himself was only number 1318, but his partner was 201. Which was what he got for ass-kissing that bastard on the seat at every possible second.  
>"Good to see you. 201... 1318." Aizen coos, in a dark and rich voice that seemed to make any woman swoon. Peering up at him hazily Thrawe merely flicks two fingers against his forehead and salutes calmly, where as 201 bows his head as low as possible.<p>

For a short period of time the brunet stood there, staring at his higher ranking partners ass. Allowing a faint mocking grin to creep against his cheeks. There were many things going through his head at that point, many things. However, the most prominent idea was the satisfactory image of him booting the poor sod up the backside. Many of the Espada had noticed him staring at the gingers ass, and some had started to murmur to themselves since no one next to them was going to listen. Finally 201 had straightened up, his face calm, collected and serious; while Thrawe had put on a rather goofy sneer, his chest rising and his cheeks tingling with the forced pressure he had put on himself. He did not want to start randomly laughing in front of all these people.

Peering around the many faces, after he calms down, the brunet stills when he gets to a blue haired male. He had his tiny coat open, so why was he not allowed to? Bloody uptight partner.  
>"1318 will be assigned to go on guard duty with you for the next three months. I will allow you to choose the Espada to report to every morning, afternoon and evening." Aizen muses, watching the nervous thin ginger suddenly freak out and bow.<br>"Ahh! Lord Aizen, it would be impossible to choose. All of the Espada are brilliant. You should decide!" he squeals, while Thrawe peers about with a smug retort that gets him an elbow to the ribcage.  
>"1318... You choose." Aizen states, watching 201 turn graciously.<br>"What a good idea, S-" 201 begins, smiling. "Wait… whaaat?" the ginger exclaims, widening his mouth and eyes. Was Aizen insane?  
>"Is there something wrong with that decision, 201?" their leader sharply asks, shifting in his throne before smiling when the ginger takes a fit and shakes his hands and head.<br>"N-no!" he yelps, trying not to get beheaded.  
>"Go on then, 1318." the smiling coy man utters, watching Thrawe glance about the group.<p>

Some were glaring, others looking else where in the hopes of not being picked. Some had secretly started pointing at each other, while one looked to be half dead.  
>"Eh…" he begins, his cool and gentle voice sinking around the room. "I guess they're all good candidates." he utters, weakly looking amongst them. Now all the girls, if there were any, had began staring at him. Not even the men were expecting such a voice from him. "I… suppose I should ask who would be best trusted with the duty. I mean… without causing any kind of trouble." 1318 concludes, hovering his eyes up to meet Aizens gaze. His eyes where now gleaming their mother of pearl sheen, and Aizen had gone quiet. Thrawe was perhaps spanking his leader at his own game.<p>

Coughing Aizen points towards an edge of the room, in which the brunet follows directly to a young man. From what he could see he had an innocent but calm expression, his eyes were a deep green and his face was soft in shape until it reached his sharp chin. Like some kind of angel he had a delicate nose and subtle lips, which matched his crisply ironed jacket, complete with tail-coats. Even his upper lip suited his uniform because it was black. This mans skin itself was pristine, the white gleaming flesh glowing like untouched snow under the warmth of the moon.  
>From underneath his eyes his skin was pierced with green, tear stain markings. It was as if he was symbolically crying out in pain, hidden beneath his steely snare. His brow line itself was narrow and straight, leaving a smooth edge to his spotless skin. Thrawe had not even noticed he was staring, nor had he even realised Aizen was speaking to him about this man. He had caught his name though, Ulquiorra Cifer.<br>"Ulquiorra." Thrawe whispers underneath his breath, concealed by a gasp of air that he had long forgotten to take.

Seeing 201 bow the brunet nods ever so slowly, his body turning at a gentle creep to edge its way to the door.  
>"I can't believe we will be working for thee Ulquiorra Cifer!" the ginger exclaims, astonished that Aizen would trust them with one of his most important members of the Espada. "You better not make a fool of me in front of him, Thrawe!" the ginger snaps, glaring bitterly for a moment. His fierce expression had slowly faded however, his eyes shifting to see that 1318 was not listening, instead he was leaning against a table with his eyes solely directed at a wall. His expression revealed him to be somewhere else, lost in the depths of his mind.<br>"I'm going to get a glass of gin and a cigarette before we begin." he finally speaks, coming back to life.  
>"Don't get drunk." his partner snaps, slitting his eyes once more.<br>"I'd say 'I'll try.'… but you'd know I was lying." Thrawe replied, gingerly grinning over at the other man.

Striding down the hall later that early morning to the meeting point the brunet pauses, his arms by his sides and his hands slung in his pockets. He never usually spent more than the rare summoning here, since this was Espada territory. Why did this group of high-ranking officials need patrol officers anyway, what was going to kill them… the lazy ass approach they had while being off duty? The sitting around for hours on end, bitching and fighting one another? For a while his eyes had grown firm, the corner of his lip tense as he tries to find the room he was supposed to be meeting 201 in.

Spotting the open door the man slowly walks in, his eyes elsewhere as he speaks.  
>"Skirvin, are you in here?" he asks dryly, shifting his head to see the ginger stumbling about. "What's with the bags?" he asks, allowing his expression to grow lax.<br>"We'll be spending over twelve hours a day here, I brought supplies to the commons room for myself!" Skirvin chirrups, he was always way too happy. Glancing around the once empty and dull room it was now alive with his partners spirited energy. There was food and drink on the counter, magazines on the small coffee table and a pull out sofa-bed if he was tired. "This will be my home from home!" the man cheers, putting a scented candle on one of the worktops. "What did you bring?" he finally asks, looking him over a couple of times.  
>"I'm here to work, if I want something I'll go to my room and get it." Thrawe dismissed, wafting one of his hands.<br>"Don't come crying to me when you're bored then!" Skirvin snidely comments, sitting down to read a magazine quietly.

Rubbing the stubble on his lower jaw, which caused it to make a gentle rasping sound, the brunet ponders to himself. Maybe he should have brought some gin with him.  
>"So we just sit here for twelve hours, and wait for an alarm?" he finally asks, after a long drawn out silence.<br>"…You forgot your job?" 201 snaps, as Thrawe puts his pinkie into his ear and twists his hand with a sigh. It was back to the yelling. "If someone loses something, gets lost, or needs something, then they come to us for help." he explains with great authority and pride, trying to seem as knowledgeable as possible.  
>"So.. I'm spending three months in a small room with you, doing nothing. While reporting this expanse of nothingness to some kid with an extreme case of Pallor?" Thrawe asks, raising his eyebrow questioningly. One hand fidgeting with his coat which was wide open all over again.<br>"Don't be so disrespectful of Ulquiorra! He's the fourth Espada!" the fiery haired man yelps, letting his short bowl-cut hair shake.  
>"He looks like a kid." Thrawe mumbles, hearing something behind him. Turning his head slowly he glances down to a pair of eyes only inches from his own. Great, the brat did not even know what personal space was. "Yo." the brunet greets him, allowing his entire body to relax after a second of tension.<p>

Ulquiorra probably wanted him to be the one to back up, which was not going to happen since Thrawe was as stubborn as a mule.  
>"Ulquiorra." 201 states, trying to avoid conflict on the first day.<br>"So you've settled in." he speaks, calmly staring into Thrawe's hypnotising eyes. Showing no clear sign of thought which would indicate he was about to move himself from the brunets close proximity. It seemed as though this little man was just as stubborn as he was.  
>"Yep." he laughs, nervously glancing between the two of them. There was no outer conflict to be seen, Ulquiorra was emotionally sound and the brunet was standing above him with lazy eyes.<br>This left nothing more than a dark atmosphere looming around them, one that 201 didn't like. "Well, we should have a patrol around to see the area!" he stammers, trying to coax his partner to the door.  
>"After you." the man speaks, smiling gently onto Ulquiorra from the few inches that separated them. Turning away the raven blankly steps out into the hallway, it was better that Thrawe made him think he had a choice at that point in time.<p>

There was no natural light coming through the windows of the castle, Hueco Mundo never saw the light of day and was nothing more than miles of barren white and silver sandy landscapes and eternal darkness. The corridors of Las Noches were relatively large, and silent at all times. Had someone not known better they would probably have mistaken the castle to have been completely empty. Slowly Thrawe had began to follow behind Skirvin, his head shifting to look at yet another winding corridor close by. After a few more minutes, but for what felt like an eternity, they entered a much larger room. There were doors lined together on each side of the room, and pillars just in front of them, lined up in-between their separations.

The room was not empty though, he could sense a couple spiritual pressures hovering close by.  
>"This place is too big." the brunet grumbles, peering about to try find the hiding figures.<br>"It's quite amazing really." his partner chirps, smiling cheerily. "Oh, what's down there!" he asks, running away while his partner watches.  
>"If you get lured off and killed don't come crying to me." he grunts, watching the ginger disappear down the hall. Sensing the pressure move the man turns, his eyes being met with Baraggan Louisenbairn's. Was the Espada way the way of the personal space bubble bursting? Now he had an old man stuffed in his face. This was to be expected from the old-timer though, and soon enough he relaxes.<br>"Baraggan." he speaks, smiling at him.  
>"What are you doing here?" the old man asks, glancing up and down over him.<br>"Checking out the colourful scenery." the brunet sarcastically responds, smirking and leaning back onto his heel.  
>"Hmph. It would appear you have nothing left to entertain yourself with, no matter how much I let you run about." he grunts, while Thrawe merely sighs.<p>

They both had a history together, in fact he used to work for the moody old bastard. He would probably have been in his fraccion as well had he not declined the offer to become nothing more than a call to arms. He would probably have hated that more than anything else, his fraccion were more irritating than 201 on two bad hair days put together, and that was saying a lot.  
>"What have you been doing lately?" he asks, peering at the old man curiously.<br>"That's none of your business, you damn ant." the man grumbles, while 1318 only nods slowly. The king never could have a proper conversation with anyone. Hearing a cry from the corridor Thrawe sighs, his eyes like mother of pearl dimming.  
>"I must leave you in peace, your majesty." he speaks casually, walking calmly towards the noise.<p>

Down the corridor 201 had been running back the way he had come, his arms out in front of him in a panic. He had accidentally wandered into the wrong room at the wrong time. Leaping out into the larger space he screeches across the floor, behind him was a pair of very angry women. Managing to catch up to him one grabs his collar, about ready to beat him to a pulp. Both however still when something creeps towards them through the darkness. Grimmjow and a few others had over heard the commotion as well, and had come to see what all the fuss and fun was about.  
>"Do you mind?" a rich voice enquires, causing one of the girls to slowly turn her head. "You seem angry, what's wrong?" Thrawe calmly asks, revealing himself to the light.<br>"I… He.." the girl stutters, dropping the poor man to the ground.  
>"He came into our room, and started touching our stuff!" the other girl bitterly growls, finally turning to see what had come to piss them off now.<br>"Oh?" he asks sweetly, walking calmly around them to pick up the frightened partner. "I'm sure he wasn't trying to get in your way." he speaks, the air around them light but the atmosphere's pressure deep and repressing. "He was probably over excited about your bath products, don't mind him. He's a glutton for women's tricks to stunning beauty…" Thrawe whispers, leaning ever so closer towards their faces. "My… and I can see why. You both have such stunning features." the brunet smirks, straightening back up to tower over them. "Can you forgive him this time? I'll punish him personally if he ever bothers you again." the man comments, letting a sickeningly gentle smile creep up his face.  
>"Y…Yes." both girls speak, slowly walking away from him as if they had seen the Soul King itself.<p>

By now the reprimanded Skirvin was pale, his muscles tense as he etches his attention up to the figure above him.  
>"Don't do that again." he speaks, his eyes darkening while the several colours in his iris shine in their fractured state. Gulping as he lifts his head the ginger watches as Thrawe mumbles, the entire sickened atmosphere flinging itself to a corner like a thrown heap of laundry. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to my sweet-cheeks!" the man yelps, grabbing onto the ginger's waist abruptly to lift him up.<br>"W-what? Let me go!" the man shrieks, trying to escape his partners tight grip.  
>"Ahh, you're so stubborn sweet-cheeks!" the brunet pines, while 201 struggles and yells even more.<br>"What's wrong with you?" an aggressive voice enquires, making both of them stop tussling about to look.  
>"Are you two a thing, or something?" the other asks with a cocky smirk, it was Nnoitra and Grimmjow.<br>"Tsk… if only. Isn't that right, sweet-cheeks?" Thrawe smirks, eyeing the ginger up who only screams and calls for help.

Laughing deeply Thrawe puts him down, the deep grin spreading across his face. "You're so easy to wind up." the brunet chortles, looking at his partners pathetic glare. "Besides… I have standards when it comes to the men I sleep with." 1318 comments, rubbing his chin and looking over at the blue haired guy's revealed chest.  
>"What the hell?" the raven of the pair asks, clearly his joke was not a joke and he had apparently asked a valid question.<br>"Thrawe… shouldn't we be heading back to the room?" 201 tries to comment, but the brunet merely grunts.  
>"If I have to." he sighs, he really felt like saying 'Like anyone wants to be in that room filled with candles, and god damn magazines.', but he kept himself quiet.<br>Losing any form of 'etiquette' the ginger charges towards the corridor, clearly he had not learnt from his first mistake. Watching him dully with his hands in his pockets Thrawe murmurs, his head turning to glance at the two Espada.  
>"Have a good afternoon, Grimmjow, Nnoitra." he speaks, stepping in the direction his partner had gone in casually. His footsteps clipping off the hard white floor as he goes.<p>

In the room the man had resorted to lazing about, his body slumped into the soft cushions on the seat. His legs were stretched out against the coffee table while his heels scraped along the cheap carpeted flooring. From the inside of his coat the man takes out a white box, which was hidden in a secret compartment. Grumbling he draws out one of the cigarettes and nips the end between his lips firmly. From his trouser pocket he also takes out a silver lighter. It was his favourite one as well, a Zippo 1941. They just did not make anything like them anymore in the human world.

Grinning to himself about his best friend he examines the reflection on the small metallic container. Drawn into a comfortable and long silence Thrawe lights the cigarette and leans back into the chair, smoke lifting into the air from his mouth along with a sigh of relief. The brunet's pet problem coming to life when he broke the silence by opening the lighter lid only to snap it shut again repeatedly.  
>Hearing the door creek open the brunet turn his head curiously, it was Ulquiorra. Whatever it was he wanted was beyond him however. Shutting the door behind him he comes over and sits down on the sofa next to the stiffened Arrancar, both of them looking at Thrawe but for different reasons. Skirvin had been looking at him for help, while the raven haired boy was just staring at him in general.<p>

Pulling himself from his reclining position he groans softly, his peaceful relaxation broken by these two nuisances. Peering up the man looks over at the fourth Espada, his green eyes staring straight back at him calmly.  
>"What are you doing?" Ulquiorra finally speaks across from him, narrowing his gaze almost invisibly. "What is that?" Ulquiorra then asked, having decided to change his previous question while looking at the small metallic object.<br>"It's a lighter, the best of its kind." he murmurs keenly, grinning greatly at it.

Dragging his eyes back up to look at him the pale boy had turned his head away to look at something else, but soon enough he had been drawn back to Thrawe when whatever it was became boring. Hearing a squeal from one of the backrooms, which for once was not 201's kettle, the raven puts his attention elsewhere, but the brunet calmly keeps his attention firmly on the space between them.  
>"You're quiet… 'Orra." the man comments, plainly examining the cheap magazines on the coffee table.<br>"It's Ulquiorra." the raven bluntly replies, keeping his interests solely in whatever 201 was crying about now. Or more to his attempt to figure out why he was cringing and whimpering in the first place.  
>"Do you always look a bit melancholic?" he then asks, letting his eyes meet with Ulquiorra's. The man said nothing in return this time, his plain expression attempting to bore through Thrawe's impenetrable fortress. After a long silence the brunet grunts, his hand shifting the cigarette away from his lips to put it into an ash tray close by.<p>

Twisting his hand the smoke rises while the cigarette's smouldering ashes start to burn out. Standing up the floorboards beneath his feet creak, causing the raven haired boy to look over at him weakly. Mumbling to himself the man hauls himself from the chair to stretch, his strong but tired eyes examining the ceiling for a moment or two. Heading towards the door and out the man stows away his lighter. The hallway the brunet was walking through lamenting his ever lingering footstep behind him, but it felt as if he was being followed; and sure enough, when he turns his head, there was someone right behind him. He had a funny feeling he had been in this situation before.  
>Biting back his irritation he speaks, slowly and calmly.<br>"Is there something I can help you with, Sir?" he asks. Ulquiorra had said nothing in return though, he only gave him his unbelievably, naturally plain, yet slightly dopy, expression.

Thrawe had only turned to look at him once more when he got to his room, he would have thought the blasted man would have flown the coop before that. He had a funny feeling he would follow him into his room as well, so he probably should keep his breath and just walk on in, and hope the little bastard would get bored and leave. He did not though, he actually sat down on the black recliner near the window, without permission, and got himself comfortable. In fact he did not leave until, thankfully, Aizen called for a meeting and summoned for Ulquiorra to come to him.


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting on one of the stools, in front of his bar that he called his 'little patch of heaven', Thrawe sips at a shot of gin, his eyes shut weakly as he rests and relaxes himself. When he went back to the small room from before there was no surprises awaiting him, Skirvin had been fixing his toenails. Quietly the man inwardly sighs, he should have taken a longer wander around the castle.  
>"There you are Thrawe. Where did you go?" his partner enquires, clipping his nails carefully.<br>"I went to get a drink and another cigarette." he calmly replies, running his fingers through his hair for a moment.  
>"So you were skipping work?" the ginger asks, lifting his head while putting his foot down.<br>"What work? There's nothing to do. For that matter, I'm a 'to hand when things get messy' officer. Not some lost and found box, or source of entertainment." he sighs in retort, dropping down onto the sofa.

His weight managing to lift 201 off the sofa for a second, his body melting into the fabric with a grunt.  
>"Someone's in a bad mood." Skirvin sneers, glancing over at the brunet after gaining his balance on the seat.<br>"Can you blame me?" he asks, clicking his silver lighter in his strong hand like before. Hearing the door open both glance over at the intruder, it was that bloody Ulquiorra again. Like a little bee to a flower he had almost instantly dived straight for the spare seat next to Thrawe.  
>"Did the meeting go well, Ulquiorra?" Skirvin enquires curiously, examining their 'commanding officer' precariously.<br>"Yes." the man plainly answers, his deep and void like emerald eyes burning holes in Thrawe's head. This defiant raven haired boy definitely had to have had some kind of problem with him, or mental issues in general.

For an entire three weeks Ulquiorra would not, under any circumstances, stop following the man around. He felt as if the raven thought he was some kind of pet, or personal accessory. Maybe even a fraccion. Thrawe knew he had to do something though, it was getting to that point where the young Espada would actually sit in his room in the morning, practically waiting for him to wake up; and it definitely had to stop when Thrawe woke up with the man looming his face over him.  
>"Ulquiorra?" the brunet enquires, staring up at him with a groggy but annoyed expression. As usual he does not say a single word, his green eyes aimlessly flickering slowly. "I'm not trying to be cruel, or informal but… could you get the hell out of my room, and stop follow me around? I'm getting sick of it." the brunet requests, but the man only stands up straight.<p>

Groaning he ejects himself from the pillows, his hands being placed onto his now crossed legs. "It's bad enough that you enter my room without so much as knocking, but you also follow me around for absolutely no reason." Thrawe states, getting up and out of bed while throwing the covers to the side. Walking over to the bar Ulquiorra follows him, to no surprise from the taller man. Pouring himself a drink he glances at the Espada, his placid expression staring at him with just as much gloom as usual.  
>"Oof, morning just hit me!" Thrawe states, running towards the bathroom swiftly. Slamming the door shut he leaves Ulquiorra outside, his placid green eyes shifting from the door of the bathroom down to the glass. Staring at it he shifts slowly across the floor to loom above it, his slit pupils moving ever so slightly while he watches the ripples on the top casually calm down and still.<p>

Reaching out his hand the pale man picks up the cool glass, the once still liquid quivering. It looked like innocently clear water that was slightly misted over, but the pungent aroma it gave off almost caused his nose to shrivel up. Gulping back part of his curiously watering mouth the fourth Espada draws the smooth rim to his lips, his head tilting slightly as the gin flows closer towards his partially open mouth. Inside the bathroom the brunet had been casually pulling his white sleeping pants back up, his strong fingers running through his hair once he washed his hands. Leaning closer into his reflection Thrawe looks at his facial features, but mainly the dark bags under his eyes.  
>Groaning he runs a shaver across his chin, the bristles causing a rasping sound to repel out and into the empty space behind him. Running the cold metal along his skin a couple more times there is a sudden and loud smash from outside, the unexpected noise actually making the brunet flinch and cut himself. Putting down the shaver he opens the bathroom door, his placid expression shooting straight across the room to Ulquiorra. He had one hand on his throat and the other held out as if he was holding something.<p>

Which he was until he dropped the glass onto the floor, sending shards of broken glass and good gin everywhere. Striding towards the stiffened Espada the brunet raises his fine eyebrow, the blood on his chin trickling down and onto his chest.  
>"You drank the gin, didn't you?" he enquires, gaining Ulquiorra's faint attention. He almost looked traumatised by what he had just tasted, his large green eyes shaking ever so slightly with disgust. Silently Ulquiorra moves his vision to look up at him completely, his once thin pupils dilating incredibly. "Are you alright?" the man asks questioningly, his muscles tensing when the Espada tumbles backwards onto the floor. "I should have told you not to touch it." Thrawe finally sighs, reaching out his hand to try pull the raven back to his feet.<br>"The entire room is spinning." Ulquiorra finally speaks, while the man only smirks in return. Leading him towards the bed the brunet sits him down, a gentle grumble parting his lips.  
>"For a formidable Espada, you can't really hold your water." he states, wafting one of his hands in an aimless gesture.<p>

Right now he felt somewhat sorry for Ulquiorra, the pale boy had started to go slightly green. That however did not stop him worrying that he might just throw up onto his bed sheets or feet. "I'll go get you a cup of water." he murmurs, turning to go towards his mini-bar. Pausing Thrawe feels a sharp tug on his sleeve, his head lolling weakly on his shoulders to look down at Ulquiorra. The raven had been staring up at him with a firm but hazy expression, the edge of his lips flattened out as if he was about to nag at him. "Tsk, you look high." Thrawe grumbles, slowly reaching out to put his icy palm against the Espada's forehead. He had started to heat up, which was a rather odd reaction to the alcohol.

His entire face had seemed to grow hotter, as if he was blushing but the blood was not able to quite reach his skin. Moving his hand back the brunet moves his fingers back towards the his face, the strong but blunt edges of his finger tips pressing against his forehead. Pushing him back Thrawe murmurs to himself. "Sleep for a little bit, it'll help." he speaks, taking a round pillow from the end of the bed to throw onto Ulquiorra's chest gingerly. Striding towards his Roman-style sofa he leaps up at an angle and lands back down, his feet then flicking up to be put on the arm rest at the bottom.  
>Getting comfortable the brunet sighs, his arms resting behind his head. His breathing had slowly began to relax, but his facial features had became firm. He was not exactly sure he was going to be able to sleep knowing that annoying Pallor afflicted Espada was on his bed. Through his disgruntled muttering he had finally managed to drift off, his lips slowly parting as he falls asleep.<p>

When he woke up a short while later the brunet sat up and then tensed, the restricted blood flowing right down his arms like a flood of water bursting from a dam. Twitching his eyebrow the brunette waits for his arms to regain their vital supply of blood before he gets up. Swiftly he moves towards the bar, his entire body tensing when he steps on the glass that he had forgotten to clear up.  
>Shifting his eyes to the corner to look over at the bed Thrawe nibbles at his lower lip, trying as hard as possible not to yell bloody murder and wake the Espada up. Taking a stern breath the man gets a glass of gin and then heads towards the bathroom, his hand grabbing a set of tweezers as he walks towards the toilet. Putting down the lid he sits on the top, his mouth filling with the bitter drink as he prepares himself to pull out the glass shards.<p>

Hearing movements outside the door he glances down to the blood leading towards himself, his expression growing curious to the thought of Ulquiorra perhaps being worried about him. Even if it were only slightly, since the fourth Espada was well renowned for having absolutely no emotions at all. Drawing his head back to look at his foot he murmurs, checking keenly for any other shards that could be stuck in the pad of his foot. Hearing the door creek open he examines the blurry reflection of Ulquiorra in his gin glass, which was up against his lips casually.  
>"Awake now?" Thrawe enquires. Hearing nothing more than a mutter from the boy he turns his head, his multicoloured eyes examining him. He probably wanted to use the bathroom.<p>

Getting up the brunet heads towards the door, his eyes rolling back when Ulquiorra starts to follow him around again. "Is that all you do?" he asks, sitting down on the sofa. "Sleep, occasionally eat, and then follow me about?" Thrawe grumbles, seeing that the Espada sits down next to him. "Are you some kind of lost duck, or something?" the man questions, peering at the raven with a disgruntled pout at the corner of his lip. Thrawe knew that telling his annoying stalker to go away, and stop following him, did not work. He also knew nothing scared him, so he could not exactly frighten him into never coming back either.

Staring silently down at the boy he peers right back at him, the ravens attention wandering down to the lighter now in the other mans hand. Calmly Thrawe leans back, his attention elsewhere as he flicks the top of the silver lighter open and shut.  
>"My head still hurts, what was in that glass?" Ulquiorra finally speaks, breaking the uncomfortable silence while glaring in a hazy fashion up at him.<br>"Gin, and it was my weakest poison." the man replies calmly, getting a dangerous look from the fourth Espada beside him. "Just be thankful you didn't get your hands on my usual." he grumbles, shaking his head.  
>"You drink poison?" the raven enquires weakly, his entire mouth still dry from the bitter liquid.<br>"It was just a figure of speech, I didn't mean it really was a poison." the brunet chuckles, shifting his line of vision to look at Ulquiorra. This brat was way too literal about everything, it almost made his serious answers look stupid, which in turn made the Espada look like an idiot.

Pulling his cigarettes out from his pocket Thrawe mumbles, his body tensing when Ulquiorra moves closer.  
>"You're not trying these. They're worse." the brunet utters, trying to push the raven haired boy away from him. Reaching out his hand after lighting the cigarette the masculine male turns on the T.V, which was mainly static. There were however a couple human-world shows, and some Arrancar made channels. One was about cooking, hosted by Tosen Kaname, which he had stopped on. Quietly he then leant back to watch it, whereas Ulquiorra had his eyes firmly on him.<p>

After about an hour of Tosen's program the brunet had started to run his hand along his stomach, the walls churning for contentment. "Are you hungry?" the broad man enquires, peering over at the dopy looking Espada.  
>"Probably." Ulquiorra replies, pressing Thrawe into a blunt stare.<br>"You're impossible." he sighs, running his fingers through his hair to push the curled fringe back for only a moment. Getting up he traipses across the room towards another door, in which held his kitchen. Taking a key from his pocket he presses it into the lock and turns swiftly, the metal beginning to creak and shift back. Resting his hand on the side he slides the panel over while putting the key back into his pocket, the lights that were once hidden in the pitch black room turning on.

For a moment they flicker before growing bright, revealing the plain and medium Retro styled kitchen. To one side there was a huge window, with a table just in front of it and three comfortable looking Daley bar stools with arched foot rests at the bottom, of which were colour coordinated to match the surrounding area. The entire architecture of the kitchen was compiled of mahogany, the dark swirls and shapes etched into their surfaces to give the kitchen a natural aspect. In a circuit there was a long curved counter, which reached out from the back of the kitchen to the front, making the kitchen spacious to the eyes but tight fitting to actually work in.  
>In the centre of this there was a small table which was obviously used as a chopping area whilst Thrawe cooked, the ceiling seemed to platform out just above the counter, allowing the hanging lights to just barely hang above his head. The floor itself was made of stone, and was roughly patterned to matched the wooden surroundings.<p>

Entering the kitchen area Thrawe breathes in the deep scent of fresh pine, his eyes hovering around the room as he strides over to the black cooker at the very back. It was slotted between the winding counter, and was tightly knitted in amongst the necessary cooking utensils. Silently Ulquiorra had gotten up to follow him curiously, his emerald eyes taking in the vast difference before him. Behind him was nothing but a white, black and grey atmosphere. The air was cold and desolate. However this new area was pleasant and bright. Being in the presence of this room alone made his darkened eyes almost drift slightly to the surface, in a ragged attempt to try filter light through them and bring life to them.

Drifting further into the room the door behind him shuts over, the lock clicking back into place. Paying attention to this small fact for only a moment longer the raven haired boy floats towards Thrawe, his head turning from side to side as he takes in everything around him. Compared to his own room, and every other room in the entirety of Las Noches, he felt as if he had teleported out of the castle and ended up somewhere completely alien.  
>Even the view outside of the window was different, as if the permanent silver crescent moon hung in the sky like a knife had completely changed. It looked inviting for a change, and was set at the very centre of the window like a framed picture.<br>"I don't normally let people into my house." Thrawe finally speaks in a quip, his voice drifting through the warm atmosphere towards him.  
>"Why?" Ulquiorra asks dryly, stopping next to the chrome sink to look at his gleaming reflection peering back. Shrugging towards the question the brunet murmurs to himself, his hand moving up and down as he cuts the vegetable in his grip.<br>"I don't normally let people see what I do in my private life." he explains, snagging a bulb of garlic from the rope that hung above the counter behind him.  
>"Why am I here then?" Ulquiorra questions blankly, reaching out to touch the cold tap.<br>"You can leave if you want, I'm sure the T.V outside has something you'd want to watch." the tall muscular man replies calmly, turning on the oven before going to the fridge to get something to drink.  
>"Why are you being nice to me?" the pale boy asks, finally turning his line of vision away from the reflection in the metal.<br>"Am I?" Thrawe asks, pulling out a box from the refrigerator calmly.  
>"Yes." the Espada replies blankly, his head shifting back when the carton is held out to him.<br>"It's a human drink, called juice. It's good for you." 1318 states, waiting for Ulquiorra to take it gingerly from him.

Heading around the kitchen to the stools Thrawe sits down, his marble like eyes examining the moon as he draws out another cigarette from his hidden coat pocket. Perched on the brown swivel stool beside him Ulquiorra glances from the window to the 'juice' and then to the taller man beside him.  
>"How do I open it?" he asks, bluntly examining it again. Taking a drag from the cigarette Thrawe puts it down on his ash tray and then reaches over, his hand pulling the straw from the back to take it out of it's confined wrapper. Gently he pops the sharp end through the foil cap, the small pop amusing him for a couple of seconds.<br>"Just suck on the end." he speaks, turning away casually. The innuendo slowly crossing his mind and making him snicker quietly to himself.  
>Placing the straw to his lips Ulquiorra quietly stills, but no matter how long he stay with his lips clasped around the end nothing was actually happening.<br>"It's broken." the raven murmurs, moving his head away.  
>"It's a straw, it can't break." Thrawe mimics, glancing down at the pale boy. "You have to suck on the end to bring the juice through it." the brunet bluntly repeats himself, slightly annoyed by Ulquiorra's low intelligence at this point in time. He could not help but find it rather endearing however, as he stares into the young Espada's emerald eyes. They looked innocent, almost naïve to him sometimes.<p>

While many other people would have argued that he just looked bored and depressed Thrawe could do nothing but compare his messy black hair style, semi-permanent frown, and large eyes with something close to 'cute'. The thin and sleek bang between his eyes always seemed to beg to be brushed off to the side, but at the same time it almost seemed wrong to move it away from its resting place. Examining the fourth Espada Thrawe watches him drink from the carton, the white straw darkening as the juice is propelled up and through it.  
>Caught and held in place by this the brunet leans against his palm, his tongue lapping up the saliva that had started to ooze its way into his mouth from what felt like thin air. Right now the pale man looked delicious; from the sheer sight of him slowly drawing the liquid into his mouth, to the way his throat moved when he swallowed. 1318 could just about imagine the pale boy clasping his fingers gently onto something else, and sucking the fluid from another type of tubular object.<p>

Ever so slowly Ulquiorra had turned to look at him, his mouth still latched onto the end of the straw. Trailing his flickering eyes around the Espada's features Thrawe takes in his glowing white skin, there was something that was not there before. It almost seemed as though the atmosphere around Ulquiorra was effecting him, and was making him give off an aura of contentment. This felt impossible to the brunet however, everyone knew the fourth Espada could not contain emotions let alone comprehend them.  
>Leaning forward ever so slightly Thrawe's eyelids grow weak and drooped to a half lidded state, his hand trembling as it fails too restraint itself before being lifted up. His fingers parting as he reaches out with a hypnotised expression, the lukewarm and soft skin of the Espada sending chills through him. Placing two more of his fingers against Ulquiorra's pale cheek he runs them back and forth, before moving to run his index finger down the distinct emerald markings. It astonished him to how soft he was underneath his touch, the texture was a stark difference to his icy and sharp expressions.<br>"What are you doing?" Ulquiorra finally asks, moving his eyes away from the uninvited hand to trail it up to the man in question.

Quickly Thrawe breaks out of his trance, his hand being removed from his cheek but not taken away completely. He had paused to the interesting vibration running across his fingertips, it felt like Ulquiorra had a thin layer of static electricity protecting him. Slowly a smile crept up the corner of Thrawe's lip, whilst he placed the side of his jaw onto his palm. He was not going to break his composure over such a trivial mistake.  
>Precariously he moves his right hand away completely, the smoke from his cigarette drifting up from the side of his head.<br>"Nothing." he calmly speaks, the gentle voice drifting out through the air like a fishermans lure on the top of the waters surface. "I just wanted to see if the marks on your face were real." Thrawe utters, eventually putting his hand down onto the hard wooden surface of the table.

Ulquiorra did not seem convinced, but that could have just been his seemingly stubborn expression seeping through to trick him. "The food'll be ready by now." the brunet spoke, getting up after snubbing out his cigarette. Striding over to the bubbling pot he turns the knob down, the clean bowls close by already out and awaiting further attention. Putting the small handmade dumplings into either bowl he moves to pick up a pan close by, his wrist twisting as he uses a fork to drop bits of steak in with the small white balls. When he had finished with that he put down the pan, his hand grabbing for a small glass container to add a sauce to only one of the bowls.  
>"I've only put ale in mine." he states, putting the food down in front of the pale Espada. "You'd better eat it all, you're like a walking skeleton." the brunet grins, resting back in his seat with a fork in hand.<br>"Do you put alcohol in everything?" the raven enquires, peering over the rim of the white bowl to look at the contents. The heat wafting up to hit his face while the sweet and salty scent drifts past his nostrils.  
>"No, of course not… You make it sound like I'm some kind of alcoholic." Thrawe chuckles, biting into his first dumpling, which was then followed by a soft mumble as the gin inside oozes out of the centre. "Mm, this is good. I usually end up burning the food." he smiles, chewing on the other end of the fork to get the ruminants of the white dough.<p>

Quietly they both ate, but not before a long debate inside Ulquiorra's head about whether or not he should eat it or leave it alone. Putting away the bowls Thrawe hums pleasantly to himself, for once he had actually enjoyed the pale kids company. Even if he had not said much, as usual. When he had told him he was going through to the other room he could have sworn he saw hesitation in Ulquiorra's reaction, almost as if he had been happy with the room he was in.  
>Out in the large, dull and cold room Thrawe locks away the warmth of the kitchen by shutting the door and bolting it tight. At the sofa he leans over the back, flicking through the channels in an attempt to find something interesting to watch. Peering away he stops clicking the buttons, the channel pausing on something he probably should not have. He had started to ignore the sounds around him, his entire body concentrating on all close by Reiatsu. On the screen Ulquiorra had been watching with a plain expression, two men were hugging.<p>

Tilting his head ever so slightly he examines their hug, it seemed awkward and tangled. In fact, despite his eyes that could see through everything, he could not tell where one person started and another ended. He had read the small corner name for only a moment, but even that did not make sense, 'Gay Rabbits'. What did two men hugging have to do with an animal? He knew there was another channel like this, except it was between a man and a woman. The Espada knew exactly what the other pair were up to, he had to put up with every hormonal other male during meetings. The conversations had in amongst the time they waited for Aizen was something not even he could stand at the best of times.  
>After a small calculation, and a whole lot of contemplation Ulquiorra flickers his emerald eyes. He had come to the conclusion that this was what that nuisance Grimmjow and Nnoitra were talking about in the last meeting. So this is what it meant by the word 'gay'. Hearing the door shut he turns his head, and then he turns his head further. Thrawe was gone, but not completely, he was just running really quickly. Concentrating Ulquiorra could feel that the brunet had used his Sonido, the sheer speed and distance that it gave him however after one use was what made the fourth Espada slightly surprised.<p>

Prior to this Thrawe had been trying to sense his ginger partner, when he finally pinpoints his presence he calmly sighs. It was flickering from the heat of battle, and it was churning out for his help. Shifting quickly he glances at the boy, but not the TV that he was so sucked into. He was sure he could trust Ulquiorra on his own. Leaving the room quickly the air left behind him was enough to shut the door over, his toe hitting the ground as he uses his Flash Step. Landing again he leaps off down the corridor, repeating the ability once more. In no time at all he was closing in upon the begging soul pressure, and now he could feel strengths that were much too high to be those girls from before.  
>"Thrawe!" a high pitched voice squeals, followed by a cry. Blood had been spilt but it seemed that the attacker had not dealt even an ounce of damage. Not yet anyway.<br>Before this entire thing had happened Luppi had been bored, extremely bored. Grimmjow just was not the same after he lost his arm, he was too easy to wind up and too easy to knock down. During this entire hour all he had for entertainment was Nnoitra, who had been knocking his fraccion about.  
>Close by Grimmjow was asleep, he had given up yelling and swearing at him after finding a great amount of heat hitting the floor from the moon outside. Goddamn cats and their perfect napping spots; the second he had found it his entire body had stiffened, and now he would not even open his mouth to mutter. Sighing the raven leant back against the wall, his hung sleeves draped against the icy white wall behind him.<p>

Feeling a strange, but not unrecognisable, Reiatsu the sixth Espada smiles. Just when he thought his life could not get anymore boring this interesting turn of events had brought his hopes for fun and torment right back up. Darkening his eyes he turns his head to look at the bowl-cut ginger hairstyle of a certain 'hall monitor'. From what he could see this certain idiot was on his own, and had wandered into the community Espada room unintentionally. In all honesty Skirvin had became lost, and no matter how long he dwindled, searched or sent out a signal he could not find that lazy bastard of his. 201 was not sure if he wanted to be more lost, or thankful to the heavens that he had found fellow Arrancar.  
>Feeling the wind behind him shift he blinks, turning to look at the space just above someone's head. Shifting his eyes down he looks at Wonderweiss, which surprised him because usually the blond boy would not even think to come near him. Mind you, that was because Thrawe was there. When that idiot of his was in a room everything seemed to be rotating around him, despite 1318 trying to make it all go around Skirvin instead.<p>

The young Arrancar had been making a set of vigorous sounds, and had started to dance his arms about slightly. Most people would probably not have understood him but Skirvin had the right idea.  
>"Oh, ohm… Thrawe isn't with me. Actually, I don't know where he is." the ginger apologises, laughing nervously while Wonderwiess only pouts and goes charging away from him. Muttering he goes to leave, clearly that blundering fool was not here either. This idea was quickly stopped however, as Luppi had leapt in front of him. "Ah, eh. Hello, Antenor, sir." he stutters nervously, being pushed backwards.<br>"Hello." he speaks, giving the ginger a jagged smile.  
>"H-how are you?" Skirvin stammers, trying to use small chat as a defence.<br>"Bored." the raven sighs, putting one of his hands close to the hilt of his sword. The ginger had noticed this and was ready to run squealing if the sixth Espada was bored enough to kill him. "How about you entertain me." he smirks, leaning a little closer.  
>"Oh, ohm… Like… cards?" he asks, shifting on one of his feet to lean back.<br>"Hm, nah." Luppi states bluntly, watching 201 weakly.

Perhaps killing him would be too easy, maybe he could torture the thin and terribly styled idiot first. Yeah, he could make him beg to be put out of his misery, that would be much funnier.  
>"Ohm… I think there's a swimming pool close by…" Skirvin mumbles hesitantly, shuffling a little further from the Espada.<br>"The water would mess up my hair." the raven retorts, now holding onto the sword.  
>"Ah… I have that problem too." the ginger sighs, running a few fingers through the hair on the side of his head.<br>"Well, it wont be for much longer!" the sixth finally exclaims, drawing his sword to swipe it out swiftly. Much to his surprise 201 actually dodged his first attack, but he probably would not be so lucky a second time.

Which he was not, and as soon as blood was drawn it felt like everything painted white had turned black. A new spiritual pressure could be felt; and when it was felt it woke up everyone who was either half asleep, asleep, or busy struggling to escape a very sadistic Sexta Espada. The whimpering ginger had frozen in fear, apparently this weak Arrancar knew this Reiatsu well. Too well.  
>Turning his head Luppi scrunches up his face defiantly, there was nothing to be seen by the door and the darkness outside. Drawing out his sword from the Arrancar he flicks the blood off onto the ground before slipping it away, the cold blade scarping off the wooden sheath as he steps out to be in front of the door.<p>

Peering about he pouts, whoever it was was hiding in amongst the shadows.  
>"L-Luppi-sama… run!" the ginger speaks, holding onto his gashed wound with a screwed up and lop sided stare.<br>"What the hell?" the raven snaps, did that pathetic waste of space just tell him to 'run'. What sort of person did that worthless excuse take him for? From another door Aizen, Barragan and a few other people had wandered in to see what the commotion was about. On seeing the bleeding Arrancar most of them just sighed, but not the ex-king. Instead he was staring from the damaged hall-monitor to the fool that was Luppi.  
>"Ant, I would run if I were you." the king states calmly, taking everyone by surprise.<br>"What the hell, even you old man?" the raven mocks, turning to pout at him. "I'm not a pussy y'know. I was made sixth Espada for a reason!" he snaps, twitching his eyebrow.  
>"It matters not who you are, or what manner of power you may possess. If you hang around you'll just die sooner." the king grumbles, feeling the spiritual pressure growing stronger.<br>"What is this, kill one frightened and annoying wasp and summon a whole bunch?" Luppi asks, smirking at the king whom for once was not blowing his top or trying to attack him for his snide comments.

This entire session was proving to now be rather enjoyable, and the best part was the fact that he was not bored anymore.  
>"Why are we freakin' out?" Grimmjow lazily enquires, yawning from the floor sheepishly.<br>"Luppi, please run." the ginger pleads weakly, feeling a horrible chill run up his cheek, he had been smacked across the face by the irritated sixth. Now on the ground he groans, his eyes drifting to a pair of feet.  
>"Hmm?" the voice asks, gaining everyone's attention. The ginger shakily looking up to the brunet whom was smiling. "Geez, Skirvin, you can't even spend a second without getting in trouble?" Thrawe sighs, stepping closer. With every hard step the ginger had moved in beat to get up, and when blood is seen the large masculine Arrancar had stopped. "Eh." he speaks, losing the smile. "Blood." he states, staring at it.<br>"Scared of it?" Luppi mocks, while the king takes a step forward.  
>"Are you?" the brunet retorts, trailing his eyes to the raven who was much shorter than him.<br>"No, why the hell would I b-" he speaks, his mouth hung and his eyes bolt open when the man grabs his throat.  
>"Really?" he asks, turning completely with his thump hooked against the sixth's chin.<br>"W…What the hell." he gasps, straining his head down in the brunet's singular grasp.  
>"Are you sure?" Thrawe enquires, leaning a little closer to breathe into the raven's face. "There's going to be a lot of blood." he muses, hearing Grimmjow get up curiously.<p>

This guy was, what, 1312 ranks below Luppi? He was not even counted in the Espada numbers, or the 'birth right' scheme.  
>"Thrawe!" Skirvin yelps, trying to break up the fight.<br>"Shut up." the brunet grumbles, turning his head to look down at his partner. "Hm." 1318 then uttered, now turning to look at Grimmjow. Dropping the slightly drooling sixth to the ground he takes blatant strides across the room. Walking towards the blue haired Arrancar he watches him shift, a glare cropping up his face.  
>"What the fuck?" he growls, prepared to fight him off. Why the hell was he suddenly attacking him, he only stood up to get a better view of the small argument. Flinching Grimmjow widens his eyes now, Thrawe had grabbed onto his shoulder firmly.<br>"This'll hurt quite a bit." the brunet states openly, digging his nails into the man's skin.  
>"Fuck!" he yelps, trying to hit him.<br>"What is he doing?" Luppi snaps, trying to get up off of the floor.  
>"Interesting change in events." Aizen chuckles, watching with great curiosity.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Thrawe had been calmly holding the Espada's pained eye contact, but soon his azure eyes had moved to look at his shoulder. It felt like it was on fire, and now he felt like screaming. With reluctant fear he watches bone start to break through his skin, taking the form of what would be his missing arm. Sticking his nails deeper into his flesh Grimmjow winces, blood forming to drip down the corner of his lip. Now he was going to scream. He was going to scream the sort of scream that made blood curdle and Ulquiorra unhinge his neutral eyes with shock.  
>He had been swiftly moving after Thrawe, and it was not until a few seconds ago that he had figured out there was a fight going on. When he got to the door frame to look inside he had taken in everything swiftly. Skirvin was struggling to his feet with blood coating his jacket, he had been stabbed no doubt by Luppi. The Espada in question was wiping drool from his lip and clutching his throat, he had been strangled by 1318 most likely. Thrawe himself had a hold of Grimmjow now, and was doing something very strange to him. He had his hand clutched around the ex-Espada's shoulder, which was cracking and tearing before everyone's very eyes and ears.<p>

Every Hollow had a regeneration ability, but it could not be used on another person. However Thrawe was doing it perfectly, but it did seem very painful because it had Grimmjow screaming at a level that would break glass. In fact, when he stopped screaming it was not because the pain had subsided. It was because his lungs had given out and his windpipe had closed over, now all he could do was strain to breathe. All across the bone veins, capillaries and cartilage were snaking up and down, snapping and coiling, attaching and moulding against the newly formed, solid structure.

The only thing holding Grimmjow up at this point was Thrawe, the scream that had went to a near deafening level and then slowly died away had even Aizen himself deathly pale. Sinking and ravelling in together muscle begins to form and attach to the bone by the use of forming tendons, the fleshy limb weaving and finally being encased in skin. Falling to his knees with heavy breathing the ex-Espada pants, his hand latching onto the new arm.  
>"W…" he tries to speak, creaking his head to look at the limb. "What. The. Fuck?" he snaps, twisting his head so fast the bones crack out and back into place.<br>"How do you feel?" the brunet asks, watching Grimmjow open and clench his hand slowly, the new bones and parts creaking.  
>"That fuckin' hurt!" he bitterly hissed, glaring up at him.<br>"The price for a new arm." Thrawe replies, smiling gingerly as he turns to go towards Skirvin. "Let's get you cleaned up then." he speaks gently, receding back to his casual display of emotions. Picking up his half-broken friend he nods to Aizen, and then glances at Grimmjow with a casual yet coy smile.  
>With nothing else to say, or do, he begins to leave the room, in both silence and in horrible blood curdling screams; those of which are distributed by Luppi. When Grimmjow had realised his sudden gain in power once more, and to the fact that he could now be the rightful king of the Sixth seat in the Espada, he had been staring hungrily at Luppi.<p>

Soon enough Thrawe had been heading to the medical wing, but not before passing by Ulquiorra. Precariously a smile had etched its way up the corner of 1318's lips, the green eyed Espada watching him leave with that same bored stare.  
>"What is Thrawe?" Nnoitra enquires, examining the headless body of Luppi. His attention drawing away from the cackling blue haired man to Aizen when he speaks.<br>"1318 used to be a lot like Ulquiorra," the king speaks, shuddering at the thought. "but there was something about him that gave even me, and anyone who went near him, the chills." the old man explains, rubbing his hands together subconsciously. "He would sit for hours, staring at the floor in silence in the dark. He wouldn't eat, sleep or speak to anyone unless given the order to." Baraggan states, peering off into the distance. "Sometimes, sometimes, you could hear him speaking to his Zanpakuto." he adds, murmuring under his breath.

"The ant you see now is vastly different from what he used to be. His eyes were dead, but not like the kind you see on someone emotionless like the Cuatro Espada." the king spoke in a gruff tone, shutting his eyes to remember those darker days. "It was like looking into the eyes of a corpse. There was no colour, no life…" Baraggan speaks, finally bringing his vision into focus after opening his eyes. "He was part of a war that began long before any of you were created." he now begins, trailing off into his thoughts once again. "They nicknamed him a 'Soul reaper'. Not because he was like a Shinigami, but because that was what he did." the old man utters, walking towards the table inside the room behind him. "He would kill women, men, new born children. If it had a soul then he would claim it. Long before the Hollow, long before the Soul Society, he was a guardian for the high court. An angel specifically birthed to protect the Soul King. Thrawe later betrayed him and was banished to another realm, where he would suffer in isolation. That dimension is the very ground you stand on." the king explains, picking up his tea cup.

"Thrawe was born with the ability to create life, and take it away. He was gripped and shackled to this dimension by bitter rage, and the lust for blood. The Soul King took pity on him after three-thousand years, that pity was what began 1318's hardest fall." Baraggan explains, taking a weak sip from the thin cup. "The Soul King gave Thrawe something he hadn't had in a long time, freedom; but of course he was not allowed to leave Hueco Mundo, for betrayal was the strongest sin to act out on. Instead he gave him a special kind of freedom. One that allowed him to walk through the bitter sands, and endless darkness." he rambles on, all eyes upon him.

Some seemed unconvinced by the story, and yet were intrigued enough not to interrupt him. "This wasn't enough for Thrawe, he was lonely. After hundreds of years he had finally decided upon something, something that would perhaps give him a light within the darkness. Like I said before, Thrawe could take and give life; so he created the trees you see today that grow in the desert, but they couldn't survive without sunlight, or water; and so they shrivelled up and died." the king utters, glancing off.

"For a while he gave up, seeking refuge in a cave. All around him there was silence, a silence that he only knew from being locked away in this black hell. He remembered the many souls that occupied the higher realm, and thus he had an epiphany." the old timer speaks, the teacup clattering off of its saucer. "He decided he needed to create something stronger, something that could keep him company without the aid of natural resources. He gave birth to the first Hollow. For some time this quelled his bitter loneliness, but that didn't last long either. As you all obviously know, a Hollow is bound to this realm by built up rage, anger and sadness. Something Thrawe could not protect it from, something it was born within and around. As it was a part of Thrawe himself, it adopted his attributes. Like its master, it wanted to escape from the venomous intent inside of its very soul. Thrawe could easily have destroyed his creation, however he felt this was not his choice to make. Instead he had to destroy this problem from within, thus he allowed the Hollow to evolve, giving birth to the first Adjuchas. This gave it something Thrawe missed out, something he didn't want to give it to being with. He gave it a conscious mind and vast intelligence, which did of course bring him some peace for a while longer." Baraggan states, resting his hands on the table calmly.

"All things must come to an end, even Thrawe knew this. His very eyes that watched his creation grow were aimed in caution, for he wasn't surprised that the Adjuchas would soon turn on him, like he turned on the Soul King. Thrawe was both a creator and a creation, which burdened him with guilt. He knew his creation was suffering, but he could not bring himself to end its pain. Instead, he allowed the Adjuchas to escape, he wanted it to live and find a purpose in life. Perhaps even find something to cling onto in the vast darkness of the desert." Baraggan explains, glancing around the room.

He was surprised that no one has falling asleep yet.  
>"After days of isolation he came to the conclusion that he would create more Hollow, he would create a population for his creatures to adapt, and thrive together within. This is the main reason for why the Soul Society eventually came to be, because human souls were not safe anymore. The Soul King knew this, he knew this very well. Instead of ending Thrawe's reign however, he decided to do as his foolish servant had done. He decided to create Shinigami to fight against the invading Hollow. He would not act, only watch. Just as Thrawe had began to do, even if Thrawe's intentions were not kind, or good. He had created Hollow to make them suffer his pain, he wanted the Soul king to feel his pain as well. Together, they would both allow their creations to decide the fate of the new world." the king utters, shutting his eyes. "The Soul king was much stronger, and possessed will that blackened Thrawe's very army's power. In a matter of years the Shinigami took reign, and the Hollow were pushed back. Leaving them to cower in the shadows." the king speaks, nodding slowly.<p>

His throat has began to hurt, but he was not going to stop. He would be damned if he was going to give up so much attention for such a minor ounce of pain.  
>"Thrawe found nothing but emptiness at the end of the day. His creations were against him, his army was destroyed, and the Soul king was basking within the light that Thrawe felt was rightfully his to own as well. Drowned in nothing but pure, mitigated hatred, Thrawe selfishly wanted someone who could be by his side and wouldn't be effected by any of the darkness. He wanted someone who would keep him company for the rest of eternity, someone who would not be able to turn against him, or speak their own mind. He called this creature an 'Arrancar'." the old man states, lifting his hands to point towards a dark wall.<br>Some eyes followed, while others were too entranced to focus on anything.  
>"He wanted someone with no emotion, but had enough intelligence to take simple commands and understand conversations. Someone who would understand him without questioning him, someone who could see through his hard shell and into what was underneath." he states, shifting his hand to point towards a hidden figure. More eyes had now shifted, other heads turning. "From nothing but sand, rocks and part of his soul, he created him." the king speaks, moving his hand to rest it onto the table with a clatter. "He created Ulquiorra.".<p>

For a severe few minutes there was nothing but silence, his awkward moment broken when Grimmjow barks in, breaking the eerie atmosphere.  
>"Why the fuck would he do that?" he snaps, as if he had not listened to a word the king had spoken beforehand.<br>"I'm not sure, Thrawe is an ancient figure. Only he understands his own actions." the king retorts, starting to revert back to his snappy old self.  
>"Why the hell would he make him, of all people?" Nnoitra mutters, slitting his eye as he glances over at Ulquiorra. The pale boy had not said anything, his mind was elsewhere.<br>Could what the old man had said be trusted? It was true that Thrawe made Ulquiorra shudder, he made his insides tremble. He was not a natural Arrancar, but could he really be a kind of demi-god? Icily closing his eyes the Cuatro Espada contemplated going to ask Thrawe himself, surely if he had been created by Thrawe he would have remembered it. Ignoring the muttering and loud yelling Ulquiorra disappears from the room, he was going to find out for himself.

Closing in on the room where Thrawe lived Ulquiorra had started to slow down, his feet gently pacing on the ground. Inside he could hear a crude male voice singing, the empty and out of tune words slithering out from the unexplained cracks in the door.  
>"Cigarettes and chocolate milk, these are just a couple of my cravings; everything it seems I like's a little bit stronger, a little bit thicker, a little bit harmful for me!" Thrawe mumbles, perched on a stool by his outside bar. "If I should buy jellybeans, I'll have to eat them all in just one sitting… Everything it seems I like's a little bit sweeter, a little bit fatter, a little bit harmful for me." he states, drawing another puff from his cigarette with a groggy smile. "And then there's those other things, which for several reasons we won't mention. Everything about him is a little bit stranger, a little bit harder, a little bit deadly." the brunet chimes, leaning onto his elbow.<p>

Slowly Ulquiorra had been entering the room, his deep emerald eyes fixated on the oblivious drunk in front of him. "Ohh, you're my little old doll with a frown; maintaining mystique while facing forward. So whenever I see you please be kind if I'm a bit of a mess." Thrawe rambles, the obvious signs of a drunken Arrancar.  
>"Thrawe." the raven spoke, gaining the brunets attention. When he turns with a calm expression it was plain to see that he was not actually drunk. Ulquiorra was somewhat surprised that he had not realised that earlier, but he guessed that too much was going through his head right now to notice.<br>"Came to follow me about again?" the man enquires, shutting his eyes pleasantly to grin.  
>"Is what Baraggan said true." the pale boy demands rather than asks, stepping closer with a cold and bitter stare.<br>"That depends, what did he say?" Thrawe playfully utters, taking another drink from his shot-glass.  
>"That you created me for your own selfish desire." the pale man bluntly replies, watching the brunette splutter and spit his gin across the table-top<br>"What sort of statement is that?" 1318 yelps, smacking his gin glass down.  
>"Did you?" Ulquiorra now asks, narrow his eyes ever so slightly.<br>"What the hell, 'selfish desires'? What was that old man thinking when he said that?" Thrawe exclaims, ignoring the Espada in the room as he rants.

Leaning back down onto the stool the brunet begins to pour himself a new drink, his marble like eyes shimmering with irritation. Hearing footsteps and seeing a shadow loom over his side Thrawe turns his head once more, his vision blurred for a moment by Ulquiorra's frosty green eyes.  
>"Did you create me?" the raven asks, holding his ground and that same stern but relaxed expression.<br>"Do you think I created you?" Thrawe replies calmly, leaning the side of his chin onto his palm with an elbow dug into the table as he holds the shot-glass in one hand, his eyes examining the pale Espada. For some time there is nothing but silence, the both of them calmly staring into each others eyes. "Honestly… You're such a strange man." the brunet finally speaks, shaking his head.

Spinning to slide off the stool and bounce to his feet on the floor 1318 puts the glass down, his arms reaching up into an awkward stretch as he yawns. "I'm going to bed, not that that will bother you much though." the brunet chuckles, striding towards his bed casually. Feeling something grab his coat Thrawe pauses, his head turning slightly. "Hm?" he mumbles, twisting further to look down at Ulquiorra.  
>"Why can't I remember." he asks stonily, staring up at him calmly.<br>"Remember what?" Thrawe enquires, turning against his wrist at an awkward angle until he lets go.  
>"Being created by you." the raven utters, tilting his head up. Through the room a dark tension begins to seep through their pores, the pale boy closing the gap between them.<br>"You really think I created you?" Thrawe asks, his muscles tensing to the soft touch of Ulquiorra's flat hand against his bare skin.  
>"I can see through you." Ulquiorra simply implies, motioning himself closer until both of their chests now touch, closing the gap between them. Darkness had started to etch itself across the brunets temple, his lively eyes seeping away behind the shadows. The Cuatro Espada was not sure what he was doing, his motor nerves had taken reign over his mind.<p>

Each impulse drawing him closer towards Thrawe's face, his black and white lips becoming ajar as he tilts his head to one side. Slowly, one by one, the strands of ebony hair that clung to his nose had started to slip. His emerald eyes disappearing behind soft sheets of white, the only thing left was impulse. Quietly Thrawe had stayed completely still, his marbled eyes wavering for a moment. With each rustle of white fabric he had bent his arm up, his hand twisting at an angle until it was up against his collarbone. Ulquiorra had paused, his sleek eyelashes parting.  
>Shifting his bleary eyes down to rest against his bottom eyelid the Espada looks to the tips of nails, his warm lips pressed gingerly against cold fingerprints. Resting back against his heel the raven looks up at Thrawe with confusion, the brunet was looming above him with an expression that he could not quite read for once. Pushing Ulquiorra away from him the Arrancar shakes his head, his hand moving down to rest by his side when he is certain that the boy understood.<p>

Feeling Ulquiorra shifting closer towards him Thrawe looks back down, his heart taken by surprise to how demanding the Espada now looked. Pushing him back when he tries to kiss him the brunet grunts, attempting not to break the goofy smile he had moulded on his face.  
>"I'm going to bed now, I'll see you later. You should go sleep as well." he speaks, turning the raven around to try push him towards the door. After a moment of force the brunet had managed to get Ulquiorra out of his room, the door slamming shut on the pale Espada's back. Only once the boy's Reiatsu had disappeared does he begin to head deeper into his room. The darkness hiding his shame while his feet echo each lamented ounce of pain.<p>

Striding towards his bed Thrawe sighs, the well used bedsprings creaking underneath his weight when he sits down. From the window the pale silver moon lights up his knees, however the rest of his body is basked and hiding in amongst the black abyss. Submerged in the darkness Thrawe grimaced, his face churning into a look of pain before he grabs the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed shut while he bares his teeth like a rabid dog. Digging his nails into the fabric of the mattress the Arrancar growls into the back of his throat in restraint, restraint that he was slowly losing.

Nothing short of two days had passed since that night, and now Thrawe sat perched upon his sofa pondering many forgotten thoughts. His body was hunched over while the smoke from his cigarette was lifting up towards the vacant ceiling, where it would disperse like the many abandoned words he had given to Ulquiorra. Shifting his blunt expression slightly his eyes lift, their colourful flecks shimmering dully in the light. On the other side of the glass table in front of him stood a wooden chair, the corner propping up and resting a Hakama that was not his.  
>Bringing this note to the back of his head he brings forth another thought, an inclining that Ulquiorra was silently trying to move in with him. In his bathroom there was another toothbrush, one that had mysteriously moved in over night; and on a rack in that very same room there was a new towel, one he had not asked for, or put there. For now nothing else had changed, there was still darkness and that drab feeling of melancholy.<p>

However, the next day his peaceful morning silence was in complete tatters. The water system had broken in the third section of the castle, and the damage was just big enough to stop water coming into that area. Unluckily that was the exact same place where both Skirvin's room, and Ulquiorra's as well, was, and he was their 'only' escape goat for a fresh shower. At the far corner of the room there was a heavy reverberating hum from a hair dryer, courtesy of his bowl-cut ginger partner. This loud and unappealing sound was drowned out partially by his coffee machine, and mainly by the rattle of the shower in the bathroom.  
>It was being used by that annoying Espada, and because both of them took so much time showering the brunet had not even gotten a chance to use it yet. By that time the water will probably be too hot for his liking, he preferred to use the shower while it was cold. Ulquiorra had offered to let him share the shower, but he would rather have shared it with a bear while being slathered in honey. That statement had not helped 1318 either, it only made him imagine several different things. Specifically about Ulquiorra and sweet products that could be applied to his pale white skin. He would have looked wonderful with a bit of cream on his upper lip, it would have been perfect for licking off.<p>

Shaking his head rapidly Thrawe shoots back his third glass of gin, his eyes narrowing and flicking down to look at the glass. Someone had diluted his alcohol, and the culprit was now hovering near him with a hairbrush.  
>"Thrawe, alcohol of all things, really? It's seven in the morning!" Skirvin complains, his body bouncing as he drops down beside the larger man. Before he could answer there was a rattle and a click, followed by an ominous flow of steam which was now spreading out from the bathroom doorway. Turning his head his bottom lip drops slightly, his eyes flicking as he stares at the soft and gleaming torso of Ulquiorra. 201 had also turned to look, his green eyes gleaming with awe at the sight of perfection that was the fourth Espada.<br>On his chest there was the number four, marking his high and infamous rank. The shadows of the living room highlighting each toned muscle along his stomach, leading all the way up to his collarbone. There his Hollow hole was placed, the black edges still dripping wet like the rest of his skin. Scuffing a smaller towel against his head Ulquiorra had not bothered to pay attention to his other towel, of which was clung haplessly around his hips.

The weak fold that held it in place shifting each time his body juts against the scrubbing. Twisting his head the second the towel even thought to drop Thrawe ducks his head down, his eyes trying to hide behind the little strands of hair he had for a fringe. He could hear the heavy fabric drop, followed by a grunt from Ulquiorra and a gasp of befuddlement from Skirvin.  
>"That was unexpected." the ginger utters, blushing furiously. Casually the pale Espada re-attached his towel, clearly unfazed by the fact that 201 had been watching. After a few more minutes the weight on the other side of Thrawe had shifted, his head turning only slightly to look at Ulquiorra momentarily.<br>Finishing the final parts to the butt of his cigarette the brunet reaches to pick up another one, his bored expression flashing when he sees the box is empty. Turning it upside down a piece falls out, someone had cut up his precious source of relaxation.  
>"We decided you also smoke too much." Skirvin comments, filing his nails to perfection.<br>"What?" he asks with silent aggravation, trying not to put his hands around the gingers throat.  
>"You smoke too much." he repeats bluntly with his eyes shut, a smile creeping up his face slowly. "You're not allowed to drink until dinner time either. It's just not healthy for you, especially in the mornings." he adds, crossing his arms.<p>

Twisting his head further he twitches his eyebrow, the corner of his lip turning sharply.  
>"You've both had your showers… why are you still here?" he enquires, watching Skirvin grin this time.<br>"I'm off once I get dressed, sheesh… you're so impatient." the ginger mutters, shaking his head. At least the wound he had gotten from Luppi had not effected him for long, he was back to his annoying self. "I'll leave the roomies alone." he chuckles, skipping off to get the fresh clothes from the other side of the room.  
>"Roomies?" Thrawe questions, turning his head to look at the pale boy beside him.<br>"My room blew up." Ulquiorra plainly utters, watching 1318 from the corner of his eye.  
>"Your room… 'blew up'?" he asks, proceeding to lift his hands to the sky. "Blew up!" he exclaims, now shooting to his feet. "Let me guess, a Hollow stormed through the window?" he asks, twitching his eyebrow erratically.<br>"That's absurd." the raven speaks, dryly tilting his head to look up at him. "The boiler for the shower was underneath my room. When it malfunctioned it took my room with it." he plainly explains, turning his head to glance at Skirvin who had just about left the room.

Watching the door shut Ulquiorra seems to almost fly from the sofa at him, the sudden movement causing Thrawe to flinch and fall backwards onto the glass table. With a heavy thud there is a set of shattering cracks and them a yelp, the brunet groaning about the glass now stuck in his back and coat. "Why did you do that?" the Espada plainly enquires, not bothering to move from where he stood to help him.  
>"You jumped at me." the Arrancar mutters in retort, trying to haul himself up without getting more glass imbedded into him. Getting no reply Thrawe hauls himself to his feet, and to his surprise there was not any glass actually inside of him.<br>Instead it had clung to his white coat and on taking it off to examine he could see that there were only rips all over it. "Great… I'll need to go get another one." he mutters, throwing the jacket down onto the sofa. "Don't move, you'll just end up standing on glass." Thrawe sighs, trying to find his dustpan and brush casually. It was not until he had found it and turned around that he had seen that Ulquiorra was still wearing nothing that that stupid towel.

Stepping over to sweep up the Arrancar looks at him expectantly. "Go get dressed or something, and find somewhere else to live. I prefer my solitude." he mutters, bending down and then getting onto one knee to start cleaning up. Of course Ulquiorra had not taken in a word he had said, and even by that new week the boy was still in his apartment. Sharing his bathroom, eating his food, sitting at the other side of the dinner table watching him. Observing him. Occasionally the little brat had the nerve to steal his coat at night, in fact he would get up from the sofa and come over to the bed to sleep. Despite being told several times by the rudely awakened Arrancar not to.  
>It would not be until morning that Thrawe would wake up to realise he had gotten into the bed, and by that point the raven was already cuddled up into him for the long run. This particular morning the brunet had woken up slowly and groggily, his arms weaved around the pale Espada's shoulders to hold him close. Grumbling he moves his nose from the tufts of Ulquiorra's ebony hair, his eyelids opening and shutting in a fluttered manner. At the moment he was not sure what he was cuddled into, but it was a lot warmer than usual, and it smelt heavenly.<p>

Ever since the pair of demons had stopped him smoking and drinking when ever he pleased his senses had increased, and he no longer suffered from the morning ritual hangover. This was all very good and well for his health in one perspective, but it did not help his other half, the half that wanted to pounce Ulquiorra at every corner. He could see, smell and hear the Espada better than he usually could. He was no longer bleared in Thrawe's vision and looked even more radiant than ever. Which would have been brilliant if pleased thoughts were not the only things going through the sexually starved Arrancar's mind.  
>Finally finding his strength the brunet pulls himself from Ulquiorra's grip, his feet swinging out over the bed and onto the floor. Quickly striding over to the bar he tries not to make too much noise, his nails digging at the floor boards as he lifts them up. Hidden inside was his strongest gin, something he would not let anyone know about. Licking his lips and taking the bottle out he grins, the lid squealing gently as he plucks it out.<p>

Peering out he watches Ulquiorra, the pale boy tossing slightly while trying to find the missing block of warmth he had been nestled into. What confused Thrawe the most about that Espada was the fact that he was being affectionate, or at least sweet in a cold and callous manner. He was supposed to be famous for him emotionless and uncaring mannerism, but instead he had been following him around like a lost duckling.  
>Thrawe had been convinced many times that he got jealous when Skirvin was getting the attention and not him, in fact he was pretty sure that Ulquiorra had purposely 'tripped over' into his arms when the ginger tried to hug him first. Skirvin was not an idiot of course, he could probably tell that the fourth Espada was being protective, leaving Thrawe somewhat blind to the whole thing.<p>

Sighing the brunet tilts his head back, the liquid slipping into his mouth and cascading down his throat. A strand trickling down the corner of his lip, which is lapped up by his tongue gingerly. Stowing away the bottle 1318 stands up, his face now illuminated by the morning light, his marble like eyes focusing on the bumpy form of the Espada hidden under the covers. Muttering he quickly heads towards the bathroom, he wanted a shower before that annoying pale boy woke up.


	4. Chapter 4

Inside the shower the hot water had been fluttering down him, the heaviest drops knocking off of his forehead to trickle down his defined features to his chin, where they would fall to his feet below. Swirling against the rapid tides of the soapy plughole the water disappears down the drain, allowing room for more suds to overwhelm it.

Sighing the tall man places his forehead to the cool and smooth surface of the bathroom tiles, his mind flowing off into the distance as he concentrates solely on the water slinking down his back. When the curtain rings screech over to one side behind him Thrawe suddenly jolts back due to the unexpected event, his head twisting to look down at Ulquiorra who was staring back up at him.  
>"Do you mind!" the brunet barks with fright, pulling the curtain against his waist at an angle.<br>"I didn't know you were in the shower." the pale man replies, carelessly holding folded towels to his stomach.  
>"I know you're emotionless, but are you deaf as well?" 1318 enquires, narrowing his vision to glare at him. Shuffling further into the midst of the shower Thrawe lets go of the curtain, his strong hand swiftly reeling it back over in front of the Espada. "You're clearly stupid…" he mutters incoherently from underneath his breath, turning his body back to the wall as he tries to relax himself once more. However this was near impossible once something brushes up against his side, his head flicking around to see Ulquiorra standing beside him.<p>

From outside there was a heavy yelp, followed by thrashing and crashing sounds, finally ending with Thrawe leaping out of the bathroom with a towel barely wrapped around his waist. "Have you heard of personal space!" the brunet yells, turning sharply to glare bitterly through the doorway leading back into the bathroom. Ready to storm over to his hidden stock of alcohol he stops, he could not get to it right now. If Skirvin was to run in and catch him his life would be cut short, and despite having a boring life he had a lot he still wanted to do before he died.  
>Groaning quietly Thrawe heads towards his dresser to find a fresh Hakama, his hand carelessly dropping the towel to the bed. Finding what he was looking for the Arrancar finally gets dressed, the towel that was once left on the bed being draped around his shoulders. "Is it the way that you looked at me then in a moment I said that I could sit here for hours waiting on your arrival?" Thrawe mutters, striding towards the sofa to relax while he did not have to look at the annoying Espada. "I could sit here for days hoping you'd come out and play. I could die in a minute, and the one chance for survival would be the sound of your beautiful name." he grumbles, pulling the towel off to put on top of his head like a hood. Leaning back the brunet stretches out, his toes spreading apart and his muscles tensing.<p>

Taking a deep yawn he shuts his eyes, the trapped air and tense muscles releasing until he flattens out against the fabric of the seat. "Softly whisper everything is ok, because I live to breath the sky that hangs high above you; and the tears that I had before will simply say that I…" he murmurs, pausing on the last few words when something heavy is placed to his chest and legs. It did not take long for him to figure out that the heat sapping weight was not metal but in fact fleshy, which lead him to realise Ulquiorra had cockily gotten onto his lap. For the few days that the pale boy had annoyed him Thrawe was strangely concerned. The fourth Espada was known primarily for nothing but his cold, emotionless atmosphere and presence. At first he was convinced that someone was pretending to be Ulquiorra to get closer to him, but after hours of interrogation it was obvious that this was the annoying brat.  
>Another idea that popped into his head was that perhaps Ulquiorra was trying to get information out of him. Especially since he had been told that he was the one who created him, and since Thrawe did not clarify if it was true or not, it gave Ulquiorra all the more reason to stalk him until the Arrancar broke down; and to be honest, it was working too well for Thrawe's liking.<br>"Ulquiorra." he finally spoke, any formal presence scattered to the floor.  
>"Yes?" the pale man replies calmly, as if where he had decided to sit was perfectly alright. Slowly Thrawe opens his eyes, his marble like iris' shimmering under the shadow of the towel his head was hidden underneath. Reaching his hand out Thrawe blindly looks for the Espada, his palm finally finding a smooth and soft surface. Running his hand along it in confusion the brunet finally finds something, his fingers tracing the hard curve and then freezing to the spot.<p>

He had been stroking Ulquiorra's thigh and was now touching his jutting hip, this sudden realisation putting several different things into his head. One, the Espada was either naked, or wearing a very revealing towel. Two, he had most likely just given Ulquiorra the wrong idea; emphasised by the fact that he was now running his hand up and back down Thrawe's stomach gingerly. And three, the Espada's hands were now going too far for Thrawe's personal comfort.  
>"Why are you on my lap. No, better yet. Why are you naked?" the brunet enquires calmly, trying to hold back the shudder etching itself up his spine.<br>"There were no towels." the pale man bluntly replies, the reply making Thrawe glare.  
>"You had a towel with you when you came into the shower." he states, daring to pull the towel down from the back of his head to rest cross his nose. That meant he could glare sternly at Ulquiorra without seeing what he did not necessarily need to see, but he would be damned if he did not want to take a peek. That was the last thing he wanted to do however, since the raven had already been given the wrong idea when he was stroking his bare skin.<br>"You took it." he plainly replies, pointing to the towel inches above him. "There were none left in the bathroom." he adds, his semi-permanent pouting expression coming in handy for this one moment in time.  
>"Then you could have called through." Thrawe grumbles, chucking the white towel at Ulquiorra so it hits him in the face.<p>

After a few seconds of thinking the Espada seemed to finally decide to move. Pulling the towel from his head, part of it gets caught on the bone on top of his hair, the other end pooling down against his crotch conveniently. What was however inconvenient, about the placement of the lobbed towel, was that Ulquiorra's pout now made him look extremely cute, something the Arrancar had not wanted to notice.  
>Holding the towel in one hand, which rested just above his eyebrow, the Cuatro Espada looks up at Thrawe quietly. Twitching his eyebrow the man starts to blush, his stomach stiffening when Ulquiorra places his hand against it. Shuffling the raven haired boy leans forward, all of his weight shifting to his hip while he stretches up towards Thrawe's face.<p>

Outside everything was completely quiet, as it once was in the brunet's bedroom. A few working Arrancar were quietly drifting up and down the halls, some with brooms, others with cloths. Ever since Ulquiorra had been floating about this area, they had taken to maintaining the clean white walls, floors and lights. Something 1318 was only slightly thankful for. From tranquil and calm the servants suddenly bolt up right, while others duck behind plant pots when there is a heavy crashing from within Thrawe's living quarters.  
>Rattling open his door the large man storms out, his cloak left behind in the room. Thundering down the corridor the man leaves the area in his dust, a few of the cleaners carefully leaning past the door frame to look inside. On the end of the sofa Ulquiorra had slowly began drifting up from the arm rest, his emerald eyes peeping over the edge to watch the door creak and then shut.<p>

Sitting on top of the castle Thrawe could see for miles around, not that there was very much to look at. The perminant moon resting its silver glow on top of him from the corner of his eye. Hopefully the annoying Espada would not bother coming up here. In the distance the brunet could see a Menos trotting across the skyline, probably looking for its next meal. I would probably be weeks before it found a meal however, nothing dared to come within 10 miles of the castle out of fear of being killed. Rubbing his temple with his cigarette clasped at the corner of his mouth Thrawe exhales a deep breath, the smoke churning up against his face before fading into the air.  
>"Damn kid." he grumbles, scratching his chin. Ulquiorra was driving him to the edge of insanity, if he had not already reached that point.<p>

Hearing something the man lifts his head lazily, his eyes dulling slightly. With a sheepish stare the man closes his eyes, another breath of smoke filling the air from his lungs. "You can fly?" he asks, his eyebrow hitching up against his brow momentarily. Skulking above his head was Ulquiorra, the annoyingly pale brat floating from side to side through the air before swooping down gently to sit beside Thrawe on the roof ledge. "You just wont give up, will you?" Thrawe mutters, turning his head to look at the raven haired boy.  
>"No." he replies, his voice no louder than its usual calm monotone.<br>"You're going to be the death of me." Thrawe sighs, shifting out his arm to wrap it gently around the smaller mans waist.

Glancing down at his hand Ulquiorra said nothing, his figure shifting closer towards him after a good five minutes. Attempting to take out another stick of tobacco the brunet glances away again, his hand moving from the pale boys hip to try find his lighter. Without much effort Ulquiorra had flicked the cigarette from his fingers, the white object falling towards the distant ground below.  
>Watching it tumble Thrawe twitches his eyebrow, his lips parting slightly. "That was my last cigarette." he states calmly, his iris' flicking down to look at the Espada. He would have glared at him if it were not for the Cuatro's eyes being elsewhere, his hand taking Thrawe's again to put it back in place. Clearly he was going to be a very demanding, and clearly he had broken Thrawe in.<p> 


End file.
